Johnlock: After the Fall
by LexiInTardisWithSherlockAndCas
Summary: John's life after Sherlock. WARNING: Contains major feels.


**Johnlock: After the Fall**

"It started after he died… It began to creep into my mind after he was gone. I wanted to keep the best of him alive; I tried so hard to keep his ghost in my memory, to keep him alive. I became so lonely and angry at him for leaving. I started to see what everyone else saw in him: fraud, betrayal, madness. Ms. Hudson couldn't do anything, or anyone else who tried. That's why I'm here. My best friend, Sherlock Holmes, is dead." A tear softly rolled down my cheek, dripped off my chin, and splashed onto my lap. "Sherlock was a great man, but I started to doubt him and his legacy. My limp has returned, my post-traumatic stress disorder, and— the worst of all— the ever-present feeling of loneliness. Everything he took away has settled itself back in my life."

"John, maybe you should go out into the social scene, date a little bit, find someone who can ease the loneliness. Find some friends who can help ease the pain."

"Goddammit, can you just stop? Stop telling me what I should do, what you think might help me get better! Can't you just listen to me? Just listen…"

"John, as your therapist and as a friend, I am trying to help you." Her calm demeanor paralleled with my rage only infuriated me more. "Maybe changing up your social scenery and enlarging your circle of friends might ease the pain and grief."

"So you want me to replace Sherlock?" I screamed.

"No, John, I just—"

"No one will ever replace my best friend! No one will ever make me feel as… as, as full of life as Sherlock did. He saved me from myself and then he left me without a Goddamn reason." I walked out, cane in hand, my every limb trembling with emotion. Thoughts flew through my head— memories of Sherlock. He said once he wasn't a hero, but I meant what I said. He saved me. The gun I had in my drawer might have been my last memory if I hadn't met him. Now that he's gone, what do I do? I can't get revenge— Moriarty is dead and Ms. Hudson needs me.

Months have passed. Autumn fell into Winter which in turn melted into Spring. Sherlock started fading into memory. 221B never felt so empty. I remember saying that no one could convince me it was all a lie, but I wonder, now, if maybe I made it all up. Imagined it all. Sometimes, I think I see him outside the flat— just standing there, looking up— but I glance back and he's gone. He's gone for good. He's just an echo.

Life carried on without Sherlock. I hobbled through the streets of London by day and I ate dinner with Ms. Hudson in the evenings. The days passed by without much excitement, but tonight was an exception. As we sat at the kitchen table, empty without Sherlock's experiments littering every inch, I announced I had something to share.

"I met someone, today, while I was job hunting."

"Oh that's brilliant, John! What's her name?" Ms. Hudson inquired, genuinely happy to see me finally moving on.

"Her name is Mary, Mary Mourstan. She's quite a beautiful young woman. She works as a nurse at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. I applied for an opening there as well. I think I have a fair chance with both Miss Mourstan and the job. She and I have a date set for tomorrow night actually." Ms. Hudson and I chuckled softly with delight.

"That's wonderful, John! Glad to see you smiling again, dear."

"Yes, quite wonderful. Now, John, Ms. Hudson, where on Earth are all of my belongings?" I whipped about in my seat and stared in disbelief. Sherlock had returned.

"Get. Out. Go away." I said, venomously. "I'm just imagining this. He's not here. It's just a hallucination. It'll pass. Ms. Hudson, tell me I'm crazy before I strangle him."

"If you're crazy, then so am I. I think it's really him. I need some air." Ms. Hudson shuffled past Sherlock, pausing to look at him with eyes full of grief, before finally stepping into the summer evening. As soon as she had shut the door, I unleashed my rage.

"Where the hell have you been, you bastard!? Why did you let me believe you were dead for so long? You better have a bloody good reason for not letting me in on this little secret! I have been so lonely, so empty since you left. Did you know I tried to commit suicide, twice? I didn't want to live without you; I couldn't. You were a part of me. I thought…"

"You thought what, John?"

"I though I loved you! You were my best friend." Tears started flooding down my face in torrents. Loud, guttural sobs tore through my body. "You meant so much to me. You were my everything. Seeing you fall; it broke me. You owe me a reason, because I need to know why."

"Because I love you, John." With that, he walked across the room to me and swept me into a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was everything love should feel like.

I woke up, sobs racking through my aching body and into the empty flat.

"Why are you here, John?"

"I'm here because… my best friend... Sherlock Holmes… is dead."


End file.
